Page 6 of Where the Wind Whispers

Violet’s questions burned in the back of her throat, demanding to be asked.

It wasn't her business.

She knew better.

She still asked. “What about that woman you brought to our wedding—Kira, right?”

Ruslan’s shoulders tensed, his hand clenching into a tight fist at his side as he turned to stare hard at her. “Do you know what happens to men who spy?”

Violet shrugged.

She wasn’t a man.

“Those rules don’t apply to me,” she replied.

Ruslan’s jaw clenched. “They can, Violet.”

“But they don’t. What about her—the woman?”

“What about her?” he asked gruffly.

Violet had a million things she wanted to ask, but she figured only one really summed up the whole thing. “Is she a cover for … all of that?”

Ruslan barked out a laugh that made Violet straighten in her chair and caught her off guard.

“A cover? No.”

“Then what is she?”

Ruslan’s humor faded. “Complicated.”

That explained nothing.

“Oh?” Violet settled on asking.

“It’s all fucking complicated.”

Not offering anything else, Ruslan made a beeline for the bathroom, his hand just grabbing onto the inside doorknob as he froze. Violet only realized her mistake—the tests she’d forgotten sitting on the sink—when Ruslan swore under his breath.

“Did he know?”

That was all he asked.

Violet answered truthfully. “No.”

What else was there to say?

Time always moved slower when a person was waiting for something to happen. It was almost as if the world just knew Violet needed something good—something worthy of hope—and it was willing to torture her just a little bit longer.

The days bled together.

Three, then four.

Five jumped to seven in a blink.

She slept when she felt tired, and that didn’t always mean when the sky was dark outside of Kaz’s windows. She measured days in the number of meals Ruslan shoved in front of her to eat, not the dates scribbled across Kaz’s charts by a different nurse on a new shift.

It was easier that way.